Here follow the signatures:
“P. Episc. Albanen. Card. Sanctæ Cæciliæ.
“Locus
sigilli.
“F. Franciscus Magdalenus Capiferreus,
“Ord. Prædicat., Secretarius.”
There followed a somewhat remarkable episode: some opponents of Galileo having spread a report that he had been compelled to make an abjuration, and also had had certain salutary penances inflicted on him, Cardinal Bellarmine gave him a certificate to the effect that nothing of the kind had taken place, but only that the declaration made by the Pope and published by the Congregation of the Index had been communicated to him; in which declaration was contained the statement that the doctrine attributed to Copernicus on the movement of the Earth round the Sun, and the stability of the Sun in the centre of the world without its moving from east to west, was contrary to Holy Scripture, and so could not be defended or held. It appears that the abjuration alluded to was a solemn act demanded only from those who were suspected of unsoundness in the faith, and carried with it some disgrace. Galileo was naturally anxious to be cleared from such imputation, and the authorities in Rome willingly met him so far, and avoided all acts casting a personal slur on him. It is noteworthy that the interview between Cardinal Bellarmine and Galileo took place after the answers had been returned by the Qualifiers of the Inquisition, but before the publication of the decree of the Index. The certificate given by the Cardinal, to which I have just alluded, was subsequent, and bears date the 26th May, 1616.
And here we may pause in the narrative, to inquire briefly what was the effect, in an ecclesiastical point of view, of the decree just quoted, and of the admonition given by Papal order to Galileo. On the mere face of it, it cannot surely be maintained that there was any doctrinal decision, strictly speaking, at all. I do not wish to undervalue the importance of the disciplinary decision, I think it most momentous; moreover, the reason alleged for it was that the opinion, the publication of which was to be forbidden, was contrary to Scripture; but I fail to see how this last-mentioned fact can possibly convert what is avowedly a disciplinary enactment, prohibiting the circulation of certain books, into a dogmatic decree.
I should submit it to the judgment of theologians whether this would not be true even if the Pope’s name had been explicitly introduced as sanctioning the decree; as it stands, however, the decree appears simply in the name of the Congregation of the Index.
It would, I think, scarcely be necessary to argue these points at length, were it not that the contrary view has been maintained in a work entitled “The Pontifical Decrees against the Doctrine of the Earth’s Movement, and the Ultramontane Defence of them,” by the Rev. William W. Roberts, a work written with ability and moderation as well as considerable knowledge of the subject, since the author, though determined to make all the controversial capital that is possible out of the case of Galileo, rises superior to the vulgar atmosphere of fable and false accusation; never alleges anything like personal cruelty or ill-treatment as against the Pope or the Inquisition, and scarcely alludes to the mythical story of “E pur si muove.”
Moreover, even were the intrinsic value of the work less than it is, attention has been publicly drawn to it by a writer whom, both from a religious and scientific point of view, we feel bound to treat with respect—Professor Mivart—although he has formed, on the other hand, an exaggerated estimate of the importance of Mr. Roberts’ facts and arguments.
Here I wish to introduce an observation, as a sort of anticipatory self-defence, which is that I do not feel bound to enter into all the theological minutiæ which learned disputants have introduced into this case. Those who wish to sift such arguments in detail can read the articles in The Dublin Review by the late Dr. Ward (since republished) on the one hand, and Mr. Roberts’ book on the other. I myself venture to look at the question as a lay theologian, employing this expression not by any means in the sense of one who, having read two or three theological treatises, presumes to discuss the sacred science, himself an amateur, with men whose profession it is to teach theology; for, to use a familiar expression, I hope I know my place better. I employ the word in the sense of a man who seeks to know what the Church teaches as requisite for a layman, that is an educated layman, to understand: thus the lay theologian, as I consider him, ought to be able to discriminate between what the Church teaches him as matter of faith and what she enjoins or encourages him to hold under a less solemn sanction. He ought also to distinguish clearly between matters laid down by the Church as parts of her definitive teaching both on faith and morals—points, that is to say, laid down as of principle, and therefore irrevocable—and on the other hand matters of discipline which, whether intrinsically important or not, may and do vary from age to age. He may of course make mistakes, as even theologians may do, in applying his principles to particular cases; but he ought to understand what the principles are.